Holiday Drabbles
by pinkswallowsun
Summary: A series of random drabbles written on an airplane this summer. Some are fairly normal, some are a bit crazy :P Hope you enjoy xx
1. I Won't Give Up

**For Issy. For being an amazing sister, just as crazy as I am and incredibly tollerent of the mess my side of the room seems to be in permanently :P Love you xxxx**

**I won't give up- Jason Mraz**

**_"I won't give up on us, even if the skies get rough,_**

**_I'm giving you all my love, I'm still looking up."_**

"Harry?"

She sits up in bed beside you as she poses the question, reaching over to grab the bedcovers you through off her edge of the mattress a couple of hours ago now and pulling them around her shoulders, shivering a little. You can't quite make out her figure in the darkness of your bedroom, but thanks to the full moon of tonight and the slight crack in the middle of your curtains where each edge fails slightly to meet the other, you can just about make out her long blonde curls cascading down her shoulders, falling onto the bedcovers now wrapped around her, concealing her naked body from sight. You can't quite make out her facial features- it's too dark for that- though you know her so well after eight years of friendship that you don't need your eyes to see her now; the image in your head is plenty accurate enough. You imagine her eyes wide, chocolate brown irises completely concealed due to the size of her pupils as they attempt to adjust to the lack of light available in the lurid room. Her cheeks are most likely a delicate pink after the events of tonight so far, her lips a little redder and fuller than normal, giving away that they've been kissed.

You don't need to be able to see her to know just how beautiful she looks.

"Hmm?" You sit up yourself as you respond to her question, shuffle about blind in the dark as you attempt to move in closer to her. The lack of light has skewed your spatial awareness a little; you can see her slight form a little to your left on the other side of the bed but to actually work out where she is in relation to you is a little more difficult. She bash into her side a little harder than anticipate, finding her at last, murmuring an apology into her hair and wrapping your arms around her shoulders gently, diligently, pulling her in so close to your chest you could swear her heartbeat changes to slot into perfect synchronisation with yours.

But still she feels tense.

"Promise never to leave me?"

You sense her turn her head to face you now as she waits nervously for an answer, and even though your eyes are still yet to adjust to the light- or lack of- you swear you can still make out the fear in her perfect eyes, even if you can't quite tell exactly where they are.

She's afraid.

Afraid because this new relationship between the two of you which extends far beyond that of best friends and is still so new and vulnerable, but you're guessing that like you, already she has become far more attached, dependent even, upon the idea of this working out and becoming a permanent thing for the rest of her life than might be considered healthy at this stage.

Afraid in case things go wrong and the perfection of the relationship you share now dissolves into nothingness after a matter of weeks, leaves her broken hearted and without her best friend's shoulders to cry on, too.

You don't blame her.

You feel exactly the same way yourself.

And that, combined with the fact that you've known her for rather a long time now and pride yourself in knowing her very soul, the delicate pathway right to the very centre of her heart, means that you know exactly how to comfort her.

"Never, Nikki, never," you promise her, stroking her hair gently as she rests her head on your chest sleepily, just a little agitated. "Never, I promise. I'm never giving up on us, not now, not with all that we have. I love you Nicola Alexander. I'm never letting you go."

Satisfied with your response, she reaches up to kiss you passionately on the lips, so close to you in communicating her love and affection that you can feel her eyelashes fluttering against your cheeks as her body begins to give in to sleep. You lay her down gently beside you; tuck her in, before curling up close and leaning over to whisper five final words of tonight into her ear.

"Night, Nikki. I love you."

* * *

**Right, first of all, I apologise sincerely fo this, what you're looking at right now is what happens when you coop me up on a plane for 4 hours with an ipod and a pen :P This fic is basically a series of drabbles, written to an ipod on shuffle (although my eleven year old sister was in charge of my ipod, so whether it was actually on shuffle or not is debatable :P ). Each drabble is inspired by whatever happened to come up music-wise, which means some of it is fairly normal and some of it is NOT to be taken seriously :P Don't laugh at my taste in music if you can help it, and rest assured you don't need to have heard any of the tracks in question to read. Though if you have, some of them might make you laugh at my attempts to write a fic around them :P Hopefully in a good way!**

**I wasn't sure if I was going to upload this at first but I've been talked into seeing how it goes down, so reviews would be much appreciated :) There are another 12 where this came from, and if they go down well I have plans for a bonus one too. Each one will be dedicated to family/friends/people I've met on here who never fail to make me smile, you never know, if you leave me an extra nice review I might give you one ;) **

**Flossie xxx**


	2. How We Do

**For Hendrik. Because I couldn't write a drabble to this without dedicating it to you, could I? :P Thank you for being just as off the planet as I am, maybe even slightly worse at times :P xxx**

**How we do (Party)- Rita Ora**

**_"Because when the sun sets, baby, on the avenue,_**

**_I get that drunk, sex feeling, yeah when I'm with you,_**

**_So put your arms around me, baby, _**

**_We're tearing up the town and that's just how we do._**

**_We got that sweet, hot loving, dancing in the dark,_**

**_Out on the streets we're running, shut down every bar,_**

**_So put your arms around me, baby, _**

**_We're tearing up the town and that's just how we do."_**

"No, Nikki!" you complain as she reaches out for your hands, threatening to drag you towards certain death by embarrassment. "Just… just no!"

"Why not?" she teases you, grabbing hold of your hands in a firm grip which somehow succeeds in feeling both vice-like and gentle at once; something only she could ever succeed in doing. "Come on Harry, live a little!"

She begins to swing her arms from side to side now in time with her hips, your hands moving with hers as she tries to get you in synch with the music. You resist as much as is physically possible, making your arms heavy and stiff, teasing her. There's no way you're giving in.

"Harry!"

"What?" you ask her, feigning innocence, resisting the temptation to join her as she steps from side to side. "What's that face for?"

"Spoilsport!" she retorts accusingly, giving you her best evil eyes. But the effect is somewhat ruined by the soft smile on her face and the happiness fighting through the mock look of irritation, and you find yourself bursting into laughter instead.

"Harry! It's not funny! I'm deadly serious, come on, you know you want to!"

"Sure you are," you smirk, beginning to shuffle from side to side with her and stepping on her foot in what may or may not have been an accident. "Deadly serious, I mean. I'm not laughing at you, of course not!" You turn to look behind you now, towards the danger zone Nikki is attempting to persuade you to embrace with open arms.

"See!" she giggles, letting go of one of your hands in order to place her hand on your cheek and turn your head back towards her. "See! Don't tell me you're not tempted! Just a tiny bit?"

"No!" you insist, determined not to cave in this time. "Nikki, it's the University Annual Dinner!"

"Exactly! Free alcohol, dance floor, and loud music, what more could you want?"

"You do realise you're starting to sound more and more like one of the students?"

She giggles now, resting her head on your shoulder for a moment in a gesture of affection. "So what?" she says. "We're all allowed to regress several decades in age once in a while. You included Dr Cunningham." And with that said and done she seizes your hands once more, attempting to force you into a strange mixture of slow-dance swaying together and what can only be described as crazy jumping around.

"Nikki! I'm all for regressing for one night only and all that, but there's no way you're getting me on the dance floor! No way in hell!"

"Oh really?" she giggles now, her face lighting up for a moment before she begins to steer you over towards the drinks table in the corner. "Come on, let me buy you another drink."

"Oh no you don't, I know exactly what you're playing at, Dr Alexander!" you protest, seeing through her not-so-cunning plan almost immediately. "Getting me drunk is NOT going to work! You can say what you like and you can do what you like, but there's no way I'm dancing with you, absolutely no way!"

She pouts at you now, looking down at the floor in an attempt to guilt trip you into caving in. "You don't want to dance with me."

"Oh Nikki, don't be ridiculous, you know there's no one I'd rather dance with," you reassure her, wondering why you're bothering given you know for a fact she's not even remotely offended, despite her best efforts to convince you otherwise. "If I didn't have two left feet, that is."

"That's true," she grins, all attempts to make her feel guilty now gone from her face as memories of last year's annual university dinner cause her face to break out in a wide, infectious smile. "That's right, I remember now. You, Harry Cunningham, are quite possibly the worst dancer I've ever seen in my life. And believe me, I've seen some dodgy ones."

"Hey, that's not fair, and you know it!" you argue, making an extra effort to avoid her toes as she sways you from side to side on the edge of the dance floor all the same. "I can't believe I'm the only man you've ever seen trip over his own feet while dancing holding a wine glass and spilling the contents everywhere! Now you're just being mean!"

"Sure, you just keep telling yourself that!" she giggles, moving to wrap her arms around your waist. "I'll hold you up, shall I?"

"Nikki! I'll have you know I don't need holding up…"

"And then there was that time I took you barn dancing and…"

"Yes, alright you!" you shush her, pressing your finger to her lips. "I thought we agreed, remember! What happened in the barn stays in the barn!"

And with that, she dissolves into a fit of hysterical laughter so violent that _you_ end up being the one having to hold _her_ up. So much for you being the one completely unsteady on your feet.

"Oh really?" she asks you at last once she's finally succeeded in regaining a little control over herself. "I don't remember agreeing to anything of the sort!"

"That's because you were too drunk on free red wine to remember anything that happened that night full stop!" you point out, sending her into a fit of giggles all over again.

And then a wave of complete and utter insanity comes over you.

"Nikki?"

"Yes, Harry?" She's drunk already, you know she is, you can tell from her manner, not to mention her sudden urge to haul herself onto the dance floor and through her arms in the air, shake her hips in a fashion not dissimilar to the young students currently dominating it. You know she danced as a child, as a teenager, but you always had her down as more of a classical ballet type than one to go for jumping around with all the insanity of a drunken teenager.

You don't blame her.

Because you're beginning to come around to the idea.

You can't deny there's something just a little appealing about it. Only a tiny bit.

"Maybe we could say the same about tonight? What happens at the University Annual Dinner stays at the University Annual Dinner; how does that sound?"

She giggles again, almost seductively, taking your hand Mr Darcy- style. "Why Dr Cunningham, I rather like that suggestion."

"Oh you do, do you?" you play along, taking pleasure in the way her face lights up so visibly at this new idea. Yes, you're more than a little concerned about causing significant embarrassment to yourself in front of the lab technicians, the University directors… Leo… but somehow those cares and concerns have melted away a little. They'll all be drunk within half an hour or so, surely, you tell yourself, they're not going to recall too much of it in the morning. And even if they do, hopefully they'll do something outrageously embarrassing themselves sooner or later and you'll be able to bring that up to get them back.

Hopefully.

"I definitely do," Nikki confirms, dragging you off slowly in the direction of the dancing. "Come on. You've agreed you'll do it now, there's no going back." And before you can possibly gather together an opposing argument, she's dragged you across the room onto the dance floor and tightened her grip on your hands, forcing your arms up into the air as she dances, attempts to show you what to do, too.

God only knows if you manage to get it right; the look on Nikki's face during the brief moments she looks back in your direction, withdrawing herself from the music and the atmosphere just for a moment, perhaps you do look just as ridiculous as you feel.

But you don't care about that.

However ridiculous you look, the fact remains that it's still strangely enjoyable; somehow makes you feel wonderfully alive. Maybe Nikki has a point after all.

And at that realisation, you throw your head back and dance, not caring even for a moment who is watching.

* * *

**Yep, you guessed it, this is one of the slightly less sane ones :P These aren't in the order they were written in; I think I was getting to that stage where you just want to get off the plane and common sense went out the window a long time ago, sorry about that :P I did warn you the vast majority of these were not to be taken too seriously!**

**Thank you so much to Lizzi, Emma, Claire, Carrie, Darkarts27 and Carrie for your reviews, massive Harry hugs to you all. You know what you have to do if you want the rest of these- and that goes for all of you reading :P**

**Flossie xxx**


	3. Run Away Baby

**For Lizzi. For being one of the best friends I have, even though we've never met. You're completely on my wavelength and I love you for that, no matter what somehow you always manage to make me smile. Thank you xxx**

**Run Away Baby- Bruno Mars**

**_"Run, run, run away baby, before I put my spell on you,_**

**_You better get, get, get away, get away darling,_**

**_Because everything you heard is true,_**

**_Your poor little heart will end up alone,_**

**_Because god knows I'm a rolling stone,_**

**_So you better run, run, run away, run away baby."_**

You think there must be something wrong with you.

It's the only explanation.

It's not the women in your life who are the problem; there have been enough of them over the course of the past year for you to safely come to that conclusion. Which can only possibly mean one thing, in your mind, at least: the problem must be you.

Commitment. Given your actions of late, some might think that's just a word to you; a word lacking in any type of meaning, any connection to life and relationships within the realms of your mind. You certainly know that's the impression Harry and Nikki are beginning to get of you. Sometimes you'll see it in their eyes; a slight, knowing, look in their eyes, enough to tell you that they're aware you were with another new woman last night and they are far from approving.

You know exactly what they think; it's not difficult to figure out. They think that you're still suffering from the aftereffects of your three-year-old relationship with Janet Mander, still mourning the loss of the woman you've spent rather a long time now truly believe you would live the rest of your life with.

Except it didn't quite work out that way.

You told Harry and Nikki, all your friends, your family, that the two of you simply drifted apart, that was all. That things hadn't been quite right between you and Janet for a while before the split, that you'd both been gradually losing interest in each other.

You think your family bought it.

Harry and Nikki, however, were a rather different story. What hope was there of them ever buying your story when they were still in contact with Janet? You're not stupid; you know you broke her heart that evening when you ended things out of the blue.

Was it really out of the blue, though? Really? You don't know, can't figure it out. It certainly was for you; you almost didn't even realise you were going to do it until the words were tumbling out of your mouth. But Janet? Had she already figured it out, known it was coming long before you did? You wouldn't be surprised. She's not stupid; you know she's not, far from it in fact. It's her job to see though people, work out what they're thinking, feeling, even if they don't know themselves. She saw it coming, you're sure of it, predicted it; in hindsight you're almost certain that final real, proper conversation you had with her was a last plea, last vain attempt to put things right between you.

She knew you were unhappy with her before you realised that was the problem. She thought she knew why, thought it was because of the elephant in the room that was the issue of adoption, that ruling that out for good would be enough to keep you.

But did she really? Months later, you're not entirely convinced.

Now, a part of you wonders whether she didn't give you that whole speech about giving up on her dream of having a child simply to ensure that once your relationship was over, you could comfort herself at least a little with the fact that she had tried everything she possibly could.

Perhaps.

You've been trying to convince yourself for months that the change on you occurred after the breakup, but the more you think about it, the more you realise that's not strictly true. In fact, it's not true at all.

The string of affairs, brief encounters with women in your life were the reason your relationship came to an end, not the consequence. It was all your fault all along.

It started with Lizzie Frazer, the whole thing, what seems like a month ago. There was something exciting and forbidden about the kiss you shared with her in your office that made your relationship with Janet seem dull and tedious and old and middle-aged, nothing young about it. Because you are still young, of course you are. You might be approaching sixty a little faster than you'd like, but that doesn't make you old. Of course not.

Jill only made it worse. She was so passionate, so fiery, so lustful that night you worked late together that she somehow managed to convince you that you were missing out on something stuck with Janet.

She and Lizzie made you forget that your relationship with Janet was missing that condemned, raunchy, fiendish feel because it was so, so right, so good for you both, so honest and true and love-conquers-all. And once you threw all that away so negligently, you knew full well there was no going back.

Was it a mid-life crisis? Or is it, rather, because god knows whatever it is you're still caught up in it now. You feel for Janet; you feel pretty damn awful if truth be told. The Leo Dalton she fell in love with three years ago did not treat women like you have of late, plain and simple.

He wouldn't have broken her heart without even having much in the way of a reason the way you did.

Nor would he be spending his time with half of the characters you do now in her absence.

God only knows how many girlfriends you've had since you left Janet; it pains you a little to admit it, but you haven't bothered keeping count. You haven't exactly been with any of them because you loved them; you hooked up with them because… you don't really know. It was lust, not love. Lust and a bloody huge mistake, each and every one of them, that's the best way to sum it up.

You should stop, you know you should. You should stop spending your Friday nights down the pub with the sole intention of hooking up with someone, only to cast them to one side a couple of weeks later, if that.

You should warn them that you're a once respectable long-term partner fast becoming a womaniser.

But something stops you every damn time.

* * *

**I did warn you they only got crazier :P** **Let me know what you think and I promise an update soon :)**

**Flossie xxx**


	4. Crazy Little Thing Called Love

**For Val. Yes, I'm aware the song doesn't quite fit the mood, but I didn't think you'd mind :P For all the lifts home, for fixing my laptop when it went crazy, and for the best braai meat in the history of braais. Ever :P Love you anh lớn. xxx**

**Crazy Little thing called Love- Queen**

**_"I gotta be cool, relax, get hip,_**

**_Get on my tracks, take a back seat,_**

**_Hitch hike, and take a long ride on my motorbike,_**

**_Until I'm ready,_**

**_Crazy little thing called love."_**

It's still a little surreal. Sometimes you wake up in the morning under the impression that it was all a wonderful, perfect dream; find yourself taken aback a little when you glance across the bed towards the window, the side normally empty and cold, and see instead a mess of blonde curls splayed out across the pillow. It's a sight that always makes you smile, makes you feel all warm and joyful inside in ways that cannot possibly be put into words.

Because it reminds you that she's yours, all yours. All yours at long last, after years of what if's and maybes. Now, at long last, you have her forever.

Other mornings, you might get lucky enough to emerge from your slumber to find her pressed up against your chest, lips just millimetres from your own even in sleep, your arms wrapped around her tightly, holding her close. You could lie there forever just watching her sleep, you're almost certain of that. There's something incredibly comforting about the steady rise and fall of her chest, the perfectly content, peaceful look on her face as she curls further still into your body.

It reminds you that she's there, that she's yours, that the future you now face is one filled with promise and love and happiness and all of it because of her.

Because she's perfect. And you wouldn't be without her for the world.

But there are still plenty of mornings upon which you're dragged from a perfect dream of her by your alarm clock blaring loudly, only to wake up to a cold, empty space on the other side of the bed where her small body should be.

She hasn't moved in with you yet, not properly. You've both agreed that the best course of action is going to be to take it slow; this new-found love you now share between you has been a long time coming and the last thing either of you wants to do is to jeopardise it all by moving too fast.

And so for now, you're on 'sleepovers.' Just until you're both ready for the next natural progression in your relationship: moving in together for real.

In some ways, things haven't really changed an awful lot. Each night she comes over is more or less identical to your old Friday film nights as far as its pattern goes, right up until the point at which she would have headed home before. She'll come round to yours straight after work, you'll cook dinner together (or send out for a takeaway if the days' events have exhausted you both to the point that neither of you can muster the energy); she'll laugh that wonderful, rich laugh of hers at your complete lack of culinary skills, despite not being an awful lot better herself.

Then you'll curl up together on the sofa with whatever you've managed to come up with in the food department, choose a film on an alternate basis. Not that you pay an awful lot of attention to the film these days; both of you spend most of the time too wrapped up in each other's presence to notice anything else.

There's something about her which makes you feel so wonderfully alive in ways you can't even explain, ways that no one else you've ever been with has succeeded in doing before.

She makes your heart stop just a little, each and every time she brushes her lips seductively against yours, pulls you down on top of her and wraps her arms so tightly around your shoulders, tells you she loves you.

And she does, you know she does. When she tells you she loves you she's not just saying it like so many women you've been with, she means it with all of her heart, all of her soul, however cliché that sounds.

You know, because you feel exactly the same way about her.

This is love like you've never experienced it before in all of your days.

It scares you a little. You need her so much that a part of you just wants to grab hold of her and go the whole way, give in to your burning desire to have your way with her and indulge in a night of passion and love and sex and everything more you know she has to give you, that you have to give her.

But you can't.

Not yet.

You know in your heart of hearts that she's right, that neither of you are quite ready for this powerful next stage in your relationship just yet. You know she's just afraid as you are, hopes she craves you as much as you crave her.

And so for now, you can wait.

For now, you can be content with just being with her, holding her, knowing both of you are so much in love you'll wait for that perfect time before you go the whole way.

You want to wait until the time is right, make it special for her.

You have to be ready, both of you.

And one day soon, you know you will be.

* * *

**I'm not too sure about this one, hence procastinating putting it up, but I did promise you'd get everything I wrote on that flight so I thought I didn't really have much choice :P Sorry for being absent for a week, I'm having a writing fest this evening to make up for it :) They'll be more as soon as I've typed it up, it's been ready and waiting by my laptop for days but homework has taken over :( More soon, promise. **

**Flossie xxx**


	5. Save Me

**For Bambi. For always being there, no matter what the time of day, even if it's the middle of the night where you are. For all the dance lessons, all the chocolate cake, all the pep talks, even for hacking all my hair off in the name of your hairdressing course :P Love you xxx**

**Save Me- Nicki Minaj**

**_"This time won't you save me?_**

**_This time won't you save me?_**

**_Baby, I can feel myself giving up, giving up."_**

"Nikki?"

"Hmm?" You look up from your paperwork for what must surely be the hundredth time this afternoon, fully prepared to roll your eyes at his antics all over again. He's procrastinating and both of you know it only too well, trying every trick in the book to avoid having to get on with his post mortem report. This is the only part of his job which he hates and it's a strong, passionate hate, not strong enough to cancel out the love he has for the rest of his work but still rather intense. You're not sure if Leo is aware of just how many of his reports you've finished off for him over the years in exchange for dinner together at your favourite restaurant, or a trip to the cinema, popcorn on him. You hope not; the exact figure is rather high. So high in fact that you'd never risk revealing it, out of fear of Leo being somewhat irritated with Harry's stubborn avoidance of the task which should be his, let alone your giving in so easily to his bribery and pleas.

He doesn't answer, and so you assume he's up to his usual tricks.

"I know what you're thinking!" you accuse him, giggling a little. "And the answer's no. No way am I doing your paperwork this time, not today, absolutely not. I've got enough of my own to be getting on with, thank you!"

But Harry Cunningham fails to laugh. He simply shakes his head sadly instead, looks back down at his desk and ignores your attempt at humour completely, shutting you out. And suddenly you're overcome with a horrible, horrible feeling that you've got this all wrong.

"Harry?" you ask, a little apprehensively, worried now that you've misjudged his mood completely and he'll snap at you now whatever you say.

"Not funny." That's the only response he's prepared to give you. Nothing more, no explanation, just those two simple words which somehow manage to tell you more than a hundred ever could, in this moment at least. You've never in all the years you've known Harry Cunningham witnessed him turn down the opportunity for humour, not unless there's something bothering him, something wrong.

It's your fault. He was trying to tell you something, you realise that now. He only wanted to open up to you and you unknowingly pushed away instead. Stupid, Nikki, stupid. All those times in the past he's been there for you just when you needed it most, and yet now he needs you and you completely failed to notice the signs, promise to listen, offer advice and comfort. Some friend you are to him.

"Harry?" you ask again, your voice softer this time, caring. "Harry, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," he insists abruptly, refusing to meet your gaze, perhaps knowing deep down that just one glimpse of the look in his eyes would be more than enough for you to work out more or less what was troubling him. "Nothing, Nikki, honestly. I'm fine."

But he's not, you know that much. You know him well enough by now to tell when he's fine and when he's not, and his state right now is almost certainly the latter.

You get up from your desk chair and walk around to his side of the desks, perch on the edge of his looking down at him.

"Tell me? Please?"

He looks up at you now with wide, fearful eyes; something of a crisis of faith, you suspect. You remember a similar look there back during the James Bradburn case, when he became so, so afraid of turning into his father, something you knew beyond shadow of a doubt could never, ever happen.

And yet convincing Harry of that was far more difficult. Which is precisely why that now, you have a feeling you've got your work cut out.

"Would you save me?"

"Hmm?" His question takes you by surprise. It's rare that he'll come out with something quite so deep and meaningful and you weren't expecting it, not at all. Not this time.

"Would you save me?" He repeats the question, looks up right into your eyes, gaze fixed upon your own. You frown a little, still somewhat confused.

"From what?" you ask, and Harry shrugs, shoulders jolting carelessly, and suddenly you realise that part of the equation doesn't really matter. Not to him.

"I don't know, anything! A burning building? A shark-infested lake?"

You can't help but giggle. "You want to know if I'd rescue you from a shark infested lake?"

"It's not bloody funny!" Harry protests, his voice verging on anger now. "I… I just want to have someone I know will always be there," he whispers now, voice meek, feeble, shaking a little. "Half the time I feel like there's so much I always intended to get out of life and so much I seem to have failed miserably at achieving. What have I got, Nikki? I've got nothing, no family, little in the way of a social life thanks to this bloody job, I… I just want to know…"

"That you have someone who'd do anything for you?" You know already, you don't need him to tell you; half of the time you feel exactly the same way yourself. He needs reassurance, that's all, the type he's given to you so readily many a time before. And you're only too willing to give it to him.

"But you've got me," you point out, leaning across to pull him into a hug, relaxing, heart skipping a beat at the warm tenderness of his embrace. "You've got me, just like I have you. I'd save you from anything Harry Cunningham."

"Even a shark infested lake?"

And you smile, knowing from the cheekiness in his tone that he's back from that dark place, wherever he went before.

"Even a shark infested lake," you reply, knowing at last he's content.

"Would you do my paperwork for me?"

"Don't push it."

* * *

**I'm not hugely keen on this one either, hope it wasn't too bad! Let me know :)**

**Love Flossie xxx**


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